Students at my school are required to complete 40 hours of "work experience" (volunteer work) in order to graduate.  Some of the placements are fantastic and some aren't.  Yesterday one of my students started telling me why he never completed work experience at the assigned time, and why he had to start over because he got fired.  He began by telling me how he decided to sit down when there were no customers in the store.  Apparently this was not allowed.  His manager said… (He:  Oh wait, I'm not sure I'm allowed to say this.  Is it okay if I swear?  Me:  Yes, go ahead.  Don't worry about it.)  … His manager said, "Why don't you stop fucking the dog?"

He looked so perplexed when he said this to me.  What could the manager have meant by that?  He wasn't fucking a dog, obviously.  He was just sitting on a crate.  He could see how the resulting argument ended in his dismissal, but why the manager accused him of having sexual relations with a dog was still a mystery.

Apart from the fact that this manager was obviously a power hungry asshole talking this way to a fifteen year old, as lazy as that fifteen year old might seem, this story was utterly delightful to me.  English is a wonderful language, isn't it?


*

All my dreams since returning home have been set in Europe.  This must mean I am still processing the experience, sorting the memories into files and putting them away.  Spring weather (with plenty of rain) has arrived and we have been hiking a lot.  I keep comparing the vast empty woods with the crowded shops and narrow streets of Spain, both of which have an appeal to me.  But it helps me know I am home here.  I value the green.  I treasure the quiet and the emptiness and the space too much to live anywhere else.

(beautiful) narrow streets in Europe

(beautiful) open spaces in Canada